


i don't think i'd mind that

by doingitallwithyou



Series: random lil newmas bits [1]
Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Humor, M/M, and he accidentally calls newt, bye, i dont really know what this is, theyre just dorks and they instantly hit it off, thomas has a mysterious rash, who is most definitely not thomas' mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 19:02:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3422105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doingitallwithyou/pseuds/doingitallwithyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I called the wrong number and now we’re having the deepest conversation of my life but I like really need to call my mom and now it’s like 3am and I want to keep talking to u au</p>
            </blockquote>





	i don't think i'd mind that

**Author's Note:**

> another short, stupid lil one-shot/drabble ft. newmas  
> i love doing these short little things with humor in them, so if anyone has any prompts just shoot me a comment or something :-)

“Hey, mom so listen I have this like… red patch on my thigh and I don’t know what it is but it itches and I don’t know-”

“Unless I’ve magically turned into a woman _and_ birthed a child within the last thirty seconds I’m sorry to say…”

That didn’t sound like Thomas’ mom at all. Not even close. Thomas’ mom didn’t have a British accent, and Thomas’ mom was most definitely not a _man_.

“Fuck,” Thomas groaned, “I’m sorry dude.”

The boy on the other end laughed, “No need to be sorry, I’m actually quite honored that you trusted _me_ with your mysterious rash issue.”

“It’s not a rash!”

“It sounds like a rash to me…” the boy trailed off, a hint of a smile audible in his voice, “I’m sure they make ointment for it.”

This. This was the single most embarrassing moment of Thomas’ life. Not only had he _called_ a perfect stranger on accident and told them about his personal medical issues, he was now having a conversation about said personal medical issue _with_ the perfect stranger.

All he could do was sigh, which seemed like a common occurrence in Thomas’ life; sighing. First yesterday someone keyed his car lord knows why, then when he got home he realized he had forgotten to buy milk and his cereal was _very_ dry, and now a random British stranger was naming off different brands of _ointment_.

“How do you even know all of these?” Thomas finally asked, smiling and sinking onto his couch, “Seems like you’ve had a few experiences.”

“I, I was a very sickly child.”

“Right…”

\--

“You’re absolutely, most definitely, one hundred percent wrong! You think that we’re all alone in this big bloody universe?”

“Precisely what I think.”

“You’re an idiot,” the boy said, sounding exhausted with Thomas’ stubbornness though his voice also held a hint of laughter, “I can’t _believe_ you’re so small minded.”

“Have you ever seen War of the Worlds? Why would I _want_ to believe that there’s something else out there.”

\--

“You know what’s weird?”

“This conversation?”

“ _Animals._ ” Thomas said.

“Why are animals weird?”

“They like, are living, y’know?”

The other boy laughed, “Really? I had no idea.”

“No, like. They have thoughts and stuff, _feelings._ But we have no clue what they’re thinking about.”

“You’re right, that is weird.”

\--

“One time in primary school some twat said he’d give me five quid to eat a glue stick,”

“I bet you did it, you seem like the type to eat a glue stick for _free_.”

The other boy scoffed, “Right, I just _love_ me a bloody glue stick in the morning.” Thomas laughed loudly and waited for him to continue, “anyway, I did it.”

“Not surprised.” Thomas could almost feel the glare through the phone. “Was the ‘five quid’ worth it?”

“He never gave it to me.”

\--

“Do you ever feel…”

“Like what?”

“Like a plastic bag… drifting through the wind…”

“What’re you on about?”

“Wanting to start again?”

“Are you quoting bloody _Katy Perry_?”

\--

“I moved out of my parents’ house when I was seventeen,” Thomas said, subconsciously looking around his drab little apartment, “I’ve been on my own since.”

He heard a sad sigh from the other end “That’s awful, I’m sorry.”

Thomas shrugged, “It’s whatever.”

“Did you have a fight?”

“They uh,” Thomas paused to run a hand over his face, “we didn’t agree on some things.”

“Like?”

“Me being gay.”

A weight lifted itself off of Thomas’ shoulders; he hadn’t spoken about his parents to anyone in two years, not since it happened. But here he was, spilling his guts to a random guy he accidentally called and he found himself not regretting it one bit.

“I mean, we still talk and all but it was just easier for everyone if I left.

“That’s a shame, your parents are dicks.” The other boy said, his voice softer than Thomas’ had heard it all night, “I really do understand where you’re coming from.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m not one for labels y’know?”

Thomas’ heart sprung to life in his chest; he was more excited about this confession than he probably should be.

“You’re gay, then?”

“ _Labels_.”

“Right.”

Thomas couldn’t stop smiling.

\--

3am.

Three.

In the morning.

It had been _hours_. Thomas had been on the phone with this stranger for _hours._

“What’s your name?”

Thomas’ eyes popped open, “W-what?”

“We’ve been talking all night and you haven’t told me your name.”

“Thomas.”

“Tommy,” he heard the grin in the other boys voice, “you sound like a Tommy.”

“You?”

“You can call me Newt.”

Thomas held in a laugh, “Is that some sort of weird alias because you’re scared I’m an axe murderer that will hunt you down?”

“Nah,” Newt chuckled, “My middle name is Newton, I’ve just gone by Newt my whole life. My mum thought it was _cute_.”

There was a moment of silence between them and Thomas found his mind wondering back to his mom, who he had meant to call before all of this happened. Before he started talking to _Newt_.

His heart palpitated in his chest and his hands began to sweat; he was suddenly nervous.

“Listen I uh, I really need to call my mom.”

“Tommy,” Newt says quietly, as if on the brink of sleep, “haven’t you a clue what time it is?”

Thomas closed his eyes slowly, listening to Newt’s voice as if it were a lullaby, “Mhm.”

“And you want to call your mum?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to talk anymore, Tommy?”

The almost hurt in Newt’s voice made Thomas open his eyes again, “No that’s not… fuck. No I _do_ want to keep talking, that’s the problem.”

Newt stayed silent, as if urging him to continue.

“I could talk to youall night, if you let me.” Thomas said quietly, feeling his cheeks redden. He thanked God right then and there that Newt couldn’t see him.

“I don’t think I’d mind that.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> hey hi hello, i love feedback, anything. i just like when people comment on my stuff okay so literally anything


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